This morning I woke up to a twitter feed that was flooded with news of Grant Wiggins’ passing. My heart immediately sunk. I bumbled my way into the kitchen where my husband asked me “what’s wrong?” 

It’s hard to explain the magnitude of loss to our profession when it’s Grant Wiggins. I mean, I never actually met the man, and yet he was like my educational rock. The best units, the best lessons, the biggest “aha!” moments in my classes have been fueled by his work. In a very real and tangible way, I am the educator I am today because of Grant Wiggins - because of my well worn copy of Understanding by Design, and my conversations with colleagues around essential questions, big ideas, and authentic assessments. I attribute much of the success and satisfaction at what I do in the classroom to what I learned from his books, blog posts, and articles shared. His passing marks a huge loss to the education community. 

In her tweet this morning announcing Grant’s passing, Grant’s wife Denise urged us all to “carry on the work.” I am by no means an expert on all things Wiggins, but I know that carrying on his work means carrying on in a direction of authentic, engaging learning; carrying on a dedication to learning experiences guided by meaningful inquiry; carrying on a determination to start with the end in mind and build classroom experiences around clear and purposeful objectives and assessments; carrying on a willingness to work in close collaboration with colleagues to create curriculum and reflect on teaching. 

Well, what if we started by sharing some of our best work, contributing to that collaborative community of educators he inspired? Here’s the Essential Question Tribute challenge:

1. Share your best essential question. Pick one that inspired the deepest thinking or deepest discussion in your class, or offered students opportunities to think, rethink, and perhaps even shift their perspective, or pushed them to empathize and relate in a way they hadn’t before. True to what we learn in Understanding by Design, this looks pretty simple (it’s only one question, after all!), but my guess is that you invested hours in crafting and refining that one question. If you’re up for blogging about what made that EQ so great, so effective, so transformative, go for it. If not, just tweet out your EQ. 
2. In your tweet, please include Grant Wiggins’ twitter handle (@grantwiggins), and the hashtag #EQTribute. 
3. Then, to help spread the word and build the collection of awesome essential questions, TAG FIVE educators who you think have been inspired by Wiggins’ work, and would have some work of their own to share. 

I’ll get the ball rolling…

My favorite Essential Question to date is: 

What forces drive individuals to the fringe of society, and how might a person benefit from that position, despite the discomfort of being cast aside?

I am certain I did not create this question on my own, and am equally certain that it started in curriculum at a friend’s school, was shared with me, tweaked, shared with another colleague, refined… and now shared with you. What I also know is that this question has sparked amazing discussion around literature, looking at a character’s motivation and growth, and also discussion around students’ own lives, thinking about what they have learned from being an outcast of types (whether from a friend group, as a teenager, a minority voice, a dissenter…). I love that this question gives students permission to find power in the midst of potential discomfort, and seek wisdom from their differences.

I would like to challenge the following five teachers to join me in the #EQTribute: Lisa Da Lepo @lisateachestech, Lisa Highfill @lhighfill, David Theriault @davidtedu, Michelle Balmeo @michellebalmeo, and Megan Rose Ellis @meganroseellis 

I would also like to invite five education authors whose books reflect a deep understanding of Wiggins’ work to chime in on the conversation: Jim Burke @englishcomp, Carol Jago @caroljago, Kelly Gallagher @KellyGtoGo, Meenoo Rami @meenoorami, and Jen Roberts @jenroberts1
 
Now, let’s carry on the work. Rest in peace, Grant.

I recently read James Popham’s Evaluating America’s Teachers: Mission Possible? as a part of a course on designing effective educational measurements. Nerd alert: I really liked the book. It gave tremendous insight into “what’s broken” in our current evaluation system, and some ideas for how we might mend it. Here’s what I learned:

The American educational system (and in particular, the government that funds it) has become hell-bent on using student testing data to evaluate teachers. So, what's causing the furor? It appears that a perfect storm of federal legislation has precipitated a sharpened focus on teacher evaluation. The first element in the storm was the 2009 Race to the Top (RTT) initiative, and more specifically, the heavy purse tied to the improvement of teacher evaluation. If state officials and district administrators could agree to abide by the new rules for teacher evaluation, much needed money would become available. The second element was Secretary of Education Duncan's announcement in 2011 that if state and local educational agencies implemented the more stringent 6-point plan for teacher evaluation, the government would ease sanctions in place from No Child Left Behind (NCLB). Popham describes this as the carrot and stick approach -- the carrot of RTT and the stick of NCLB.

But is the craze to get into compliance with teacher evaluation rules justified? Well, to a "failing" school district, desperate to distance itself from the punitive label from NCLB, or to an underfunded district clamoring for more cash to keep its schools afloat, the furor is absolutely justified. On the other hand, many teachers' unions - like the California Teacher’s Association - are staunchly opposed to agreeing to any legislation that could tie teacher compensation or employment to assessment data. Ceding that control to the federal government is not worth it for many unions - despite the money that could follow.

Many make the counter-argument that the teacher evaluation systems put in place by RTT and Duncan's six-point plan are meant to support teachers and provide professional development. Indeed, Popham presents this perspective. Yet, he also notes that there are reasons that even the most well-intentioned system could be rendered ineffectual. Essentially, the government runs the risk of making a Type I error - identifying bad teachers as good ones (the false positive), or a Type II error - identifying good teachers and labeling them as bad ones (the false negative).  Both errors are detrimental, and both stem from four problems with the way the evaluation system currently operates. Chief among these is that districts may use poorly chosen evidence, including test data that is intended to evaluate an entirely different construct (student achievement instead of teacher performance). 

So, where do we go awry? Administrators have so much to consider when it comes to how they will evaluate their faculty. Popham exposes the trap of giving ratings - those who rate teachers often make comparative judgments based on their own (biased) experience, and likely provide an inaccurate final score (either over or under-estimating the teacher’s instructional ability). Moreover, Popham suggests that administrators need to be mindful of the purpose of their evaluation: formative or summative. If an evaluator goes into a classroom with both tasks on his/her mind, the dual purpose simply muddies the waters. Stronger feedback happens when the administrator only focuses on providing formative feedback; it is tough to provide good feedback while making summative remarks as well. One of the implications here is time. In order to conduct high-quality teacher ratings, the administrator must have sufficient time to develop or adapt the rating tool, to receive training on how to use the tool, to conduct the observations (if that is part of the tool), and to meet with the teacher being rated. Unfortunately, as Popham concedes, when it comes to "carrying out [an effective] teacher appraisal strategy, you do what you can afford to do." 

So, then, what can we do? Popham outlines his rationale for embracing a weighted evidence judgment approach to teacher evaluations. Fo administrators, his points become particularly salient, as administrators are often the ones tasked with evaluating teacher efficacy. His first line of argumentation is to dissuade administrators from trying to "human proof" an evaluation. It is not possible to remove human judgment from the process of evaluating a teacher. Decision making and discernment will be part of the process no matter what. Administrators might as well acknowledge where and how their judgments will take effect. Thus, he enumerates the steps for creating a defensible teacher evaluation - from identifying the criteria to be evaluated, to operationalizing those criteria, to collecting evidence, to creating an aggregate score. 

In the noble quest for measuring a teacher's instructional ability, Popham suggests classroom assessments as an important part of the portfolio of measurements used evaluate educators. He raises concern over relying too heavily on standardized assessments, as they are designed as comparative measurements, meaning that if too many students have "mastered" the content in a particular set of questions, those questions would be phased out in subsequent tests. Thus, it is darn near impossible to judge students' content mastery, and by extension, teachers' instructional ability, when the test is a moving (and increasingly more challenging) target. Enter the need for classroom assessments as quality-illuminating evidence that could be used in a teacher-evaluation program. If student growth is a proxy for instructional ability, and explains that pretest and posttest data for units, semesters, or entire school years could demonstrate the extent to which students have grown. 

However - and this is a big however - in order to be sure that we are measuring the teacher's influence on student growth, we have to find a way to separate out student growth as a result of school instruction from student growth as a result of other factors. In my own teaching context, this would be a challenge. So many of my students come from families with means, and use those means for tutors, extracurricular educational experiences, immersion trips, foreign study, etc. How can I be sure that a student understands how to write an introduction because of MY instruction, as opposed to the hours of private tutoring he has received (endured?)? Popham concedes that this is a challenge, indeed. All of this may be a LOT to ask of a school administrator in addition to his or her regular responsibilities. So, I return to the title: Mission Possible? Honestly, I’m not sure.

I've been lurking on the #makeschooldifferent challenge for a few days now, really enjoying watching colleagues in my PLN post their lists of five things we need to change in order to, well, make school different (and, by extension, better). There's a lot of open, honest thinking going on out there in the twittosphere, and at the risk of jumping up on the collective soapbox, I'm going to add my five. I love that this challenge encourages us to share *not* what others may want to hear, but what we think must be said. Below are five of so many. 

When it comes to education, we need to stop pretending...

1. that expecting kids to learn challenging stuff at seven in the morning is reasonable, or even productive. Let's pay attention to research on human development and acknowledge that teens need later starts to learn and grow.
2. that expecting teachers to thoughtfully hone their craft through just a few days of lecture-based professional development is enough. We need ongoing opportunities for meaningful PD - time set aside in our work day (not added on top of it) to be in conversation with colleagues, administrators, and outside experts. The more we are in dialogue with one another, the more likely we are to move toward a more authentic, interdisciplinary approach to teaching and learning.
3. that teachers can grow in isolation. My door is always open - as are many of the doors down the hall. Let's get administrators and colleagues in our classrooms to observe and discuss so that evaluations are based on more than just hearsay, and more importantly, so that we can learn from each other. I'd love feedback on my lessons beyond what my students give me.
4. that piling on a boatload of homework is an effective way to extend our class periods and expand our courses. It's not fair to students. Sure, some may wonder what on earth kids will do when they get home from school; but then again, I don't want my students judging me for flopping on the couch after a long day and zoning out to NCIS reruns. Let's bring free time and family time back.
5. that technology is the be-all-end-all OR the enemy. Let's use it to connect kids with meaningful audiences outside of the walls of our classrooms. Let's use it to foster collaboration among students, and clear communication between teachers and kids. Let's use it to make our feedback more personalized and more timely. It's a tool. Let's use it well.

True to the genre of the Internet Challenge, I'm naming five awesome educators (all from KCI MERIT - woot! woot!) who I would love to have weigh in on the question: Diane Main, Roni Habib, Karl L-S, Lisa Highfill, and Lisa DeLapo (Sorry if you already did it and I missed your tweets. Retweet 'em!). This challenge came my way from Jen Roberts. You can read her post here. The original challenge came from from Scott McCloud, who has compiled a bunch of responses here.